Rector's Sermon
12 February 2012

First Reading	Psalm	Epistle	Gospel
1 Kings 5:1—14	Psalm 30	1 Corinthians 9:24–27	Mark 1:40–45

       I suspect that many of us, at some point in our childhood, picked up a conch shell held it to our ears and heard the sound of the sea. We might have taken it home from our summer at the seashore and discovered, even far away from the sea and in the midst of winter, if we put the shell up to our ear, we could still hear sounds like waves coming upon the shore and turning over upon the beach. The shell had a special meaning, it connected us and reminded us our of time riding the waves, building sandcastles and moats around them, or just walking barefoot down the smooth damp sand at evening with the sound of seagulls overhead.

       When Kluane and I go on vacation, we don't usually shop for ourselves anymore, but we enjoy picking up what will become Christmas and birthday presents that will covey some sense of a personal connection between the recipient and us. We don’t insist that each gift is unique, as long as it represents something of ourselves and something that says we had the giver in mind.

       We've also had the experience of seeing something at a distance that might make a very attractive gift, and as we examined it more closely, we looked on the shelf behind and spotted a dozen just like it. I always reason that if this store has a dozen on them on the shelf, there are plenty of other stores in the country that also have a dozen of such items in their inventory, and it has been manufactured by the thousands in some far off place, on a dreary assembly line. It may be that none of the workers who toiled on the assembly line had any idea of what they were making and likely wondered why anyone in their right mind in a wealthy land like the United States would want it; what they would use it for; and why they would buy not only a few, but apparently thousands of them.

       When I look at all those identical items stacked on the shelves in their boxes, any initial attraction turns to revulsion.  With such items there are no connections between maker and purchaser or between the product and its maker. It was just a manufacturing task of desperate necessity done so that one could barely feed one’s family or buy fuel to keep an aging parent from freezing in the winter. The items now remind me of an old woodpile, logs stacked one on top of another, needing to be thrown on a fire before they completely decay.

       The Gospel passage of today is not quite as straightforward as it looks. The common translation says, "Moved with pity, Jesus stretched out his hand and touched him.” But a more challenging, yet well-attested variant is, "Jesus, deeply disturbed as he stretched out his hand," or even "Jesus was filled with anger, as he stretched out his hand." Jesus was obviously not mad at the leper for his request. Jesus could have been angry at the sickness that bedeviled the leper. Yet much more likely, Jesus was disturbed because he knew that it was very easy for public miracles to become completely disconnected from any real meaning of the Good News. The disciples had already gotten sidetracked and wanted Jesus to return and appease the needs of the crowd. The applause and wonder was a powerful toxin. That is why Jesus got them out of the previous town and moved on. A concentration on expecting, if not demanding private blessings restricts the Gospel to a very selfish perspective, on "me, me, me," rather than how God lives among us. Rather than we pursuing Jesus to demand what will make “us” happy, Jesus wanted us all to ask, “What destroys and sickens human life, and how can we play a part in mending human relationships?” That is why when Jesus touched a leper and crossed the boundary between clean and unclean, it was as significant as the healing itself.  Moreover, Jesus wanted a connection made between God and compassion for the suffering. Sadly, it is no surprise that the cumulative effect of all the healings around Galilee, with its undertones of distraction, results in Jesus being forced to avoid the towns where his reputation for successful miracles had become known. Jesus had good reason to be upset and perturbed on more than one level.

       Sometimes I wonder who buys all those things that seem to have unlimited inventory.  What happens to them when they do not sell? What does one do with them? They have no roots; they have no soul, and are incapable of moving and touching anyone. I wonder if miraculous healings and exorcisms produced for the sake of applause of audiences are in their own way, just like them: like an old pile of stacked, decaying cordwood, good only for throwing onto a hot fire.

       And I offer this to you in the name of the Living God, Amen.